


Shadow-whisperer

by DancingInTheRain



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Demons, M/M, alternative universe, demon!Kíli, demons are cunning little shits, no brotherly relation, shadow-whisperer!Fíli, shadow-whisperers, summoning of demons, tags will be added in the course of the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingInTheRain/pseuds/DancingInTheRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardly anyone knows, but within Durin's line runs the blood of so-called 'shadow-whisperers': mighty persons who can summond demons from the Netherworld. Once, being a shadow-whisperer meant great honor and fame. Now, this ability is rare amongst the races of Middle-earth and is condemned as devilish and evil.</p><p>So when Fíli, nephew to Thorin Oakenshield and heir to the throne of Erebor discovers that he is in fact a shadow-whisperer, his life takes a sudden turn and soon nothing and no one can protect him from the wrath and hatred of his own kin and people. </p><p>His only chance to survive is to side with a demon - treacherous and evil by nature.</p><p>And only time will tell if his decision was a wise one or if it in fact seals the downfall of his people...</p><p>(Alternative Universe where Erebor is still in the hands of the Durins and Thorin is currently King under the Mountain)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by the novels 'Bartimaeus' by Jonothan Stroud. Fíli and Kíli are not related here (as you might have guessed^^).
> 
> I will add more tags within the course of the story; there may also be more pairings, depending on how the story might turn; as Kíli is one sassy little shit who tends to simply take over the plot and be like 'Nope, we won't follow what you've planned, we will do as I say' *sighs* we will see...

#  Shadow-whisperer 

### Chapter 1

Being a demon was fun. At least, that was most demons thought. Especially the minor ones, those who weren’t summoned often and ergo leave the netherworld to serve whoever had called them. 

And even if they were summoned, it was for minor tasks, worthy of their status within the hierarchy of the netherworld: to deliver messages or to guard a household or something similar. Because no master would be stupid enough to let himself be guarded by just minor guards. And if they were, well, they were most certainly dead within a day or so. Because someone who knew what they were doing (which most masters didn’t anyway) also knew that minor demons were indeed invisible for other persons excluding their masters and they were quite ugly for that matter, but they didn’t classify as powerful guards.

Hence, the most minor demons usually were summoned for minor tasks and dismissed after that. Their day mostly consisted of floating through the netherworld and simply enjoying the amenities of doing nothing. Despite looking ugly, making strange noises and drooling everywhere, apparently. (As you might have realized, minor demons weren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the box.)

The life of a major demon however was a totally different matter. Being more intelligent and powerful, they were summoned for greater tasks – such as guarding their master or other important things. Well, one might assume that therefore the higher demons liked being summoned and serving; however, in most cases they absolutely didn’t, because the people actually able to summon higher demons were mostly not quite – friendly to them. Caging their servants with spells and a whole bunch of rules. Because, you see, it’s not in the demons’ nature to be – nice. Quite the contrary. 

The frequency of being summoned varied. The more famous a demon was, the more often he usually got called. Well, it was a fact that most magicians who were strong enough in health and mind to actually perform this complicated act usually had a strong desire for power and hence cruelty towards everyone surrounding them, including their servants.

This being said, it was no surprise whatsoever that Kíli, being one of the highest demons walking the netherworld these days wasn’t at all happy when he felt the familiar pull in his matter. He was in the middle of scolding some puny hobgoblin who had dared to disturb his slumber. Or, well, since demons didn’t need any sleep, his musing. Meditating. Whatever. The point was, this imp had disturbed his concentration and was momentarily shrieking on the top of his tiny lungs, due to the electric tremors Kíli sent through his body. And then, the familiar sensation kicked in: something was pulling at his sleeve – well, figurative of course, since demons lacked clothes as well as any particular shape in the netherworld. 

For a moment, Kíli was taken aback and he actually turned his head to check if there was another hobgoblin actually pulling at him – but nothing. Startled, the demon let go of his victim that was clever enough to run for it while Kíli was distracted. When the pulling sensation didn’t subside but turned into an annoying and almost painful itching, Kíli was finally able to place it: he was being called into the world of the living.

Well, would you look at that!

It had been decades since Kíli’s last citation. Centuries even (he wasn’t so sure, since time elapsed differently in the netherworld). Who in the name of the great Melcor was summoning him now? Kíli had been under the impression that the races of the living world, Middle-earth, had forgotten him – finally. Demons were like fashion: for a time, it was the in-thing to call certain demons, until new and better ones appeared. Ridiculous, if you asked Kíli, since demons could take whichever shape and appearance they wished; only one of the oddities of the living. Kíli had stopped wondering about it. They were crazy. There, said it.

So, it struck the demon odd that now, after so much time, someone remembered him – and remembered enough of the old rituals to actually be able to call him in the netherworld. That was indeed rare these days. Well, Kíli couldn’t tell from his own experience, but rumor had it that times were indeed different now. There were not many shadow-whisperer left, as the races of Middle-earth called the ones who could control the demons. Most of them were elves, quite pleasant to work with, actually – even if Kíli never understood their high-spirited rambling about the Meaning of life and such. But there were a lot fouler creatures you could get as a master; cruel and disgusting, full of hatred towards the world and the demons – well, that at least was mutual. Demons hated the living as fierce and greatly as the living hated the demons. Why they still summoned them, was a mystery. Maybe, because the demons were bound to the wills of their masters, if the spells were spoken correctly.

Kíli tried to resist the calling for a long moment, testing the boundaries, but they didn’t give away so the demon had no choice but to let himself be pulled out of the netherworld into the world of the living. He was both parts annoyed and curious. New masters were a little like a chocolate box: you never know what you get.

When the living world slowly took shape around Kíli (it was the bright colors that got him every time, stinging in his eyes like goddamn knives!), he prepared himself for a good entrance. Maybe he was a little drama queen and old-fashioned amongst his race, but he didn’t care much. He enjoyed a good show as much as the next demon.

The temperature in the room he materialized in dropped for quite a few degrees and icy crystals began to form hanging in the air. A huge cloud of black smoke cloaked his appearance and bluish flames evaporated within it. A thundering voice rang in the air, echoing from the room’s walls in order to terrify the poor soul who had summoned him to death. 

“Who dares to wake me, the great Kíli, fiercest of the demons of old, who has destroyed cities and slaughtered races? Who dares to call upon me, treacherous and cruelest of my kin?”

It had taken him a few decades to polish that entrance speech and now he was quite proud of it.

The icicles were clinging and cracking, small water drops falling from them, instantly freezing midair. The blue flames surrounding him roared even louder and gave way to a pair of yellowish, horrible eyes emerging from the smoke cloud to take in the one who had called him.

Huh.

Kíli had had many masters throughout his life, very different personas each. Old people, young people, both males and females (though most of them has been males) but THIS person was by far the youngest shadow whisperer Kíli has ever seen. And he didn’t seem to be frightened at all.

That startled Kíli enough to forget about the little extra horror-effect he wanted to add to his show a moment ago. So, he just awkwardly continued to float midair and stared at the young man standing outside the pentacle. He had blond hair and blue eyes, was finely dressed with a fur cloak that suggested he wasn’t some mere peasant. His hair was braided and if Kíli had known the customs of his people or even who his people were, he’d known that the young man was of royal birth.

How did this youngster even know how to summon a demon? And a demon as powerful as Kíli on top of that? 

‘You are Kíli, the unleasher, who helped building up the great Kingdom of Númenor?’

‘I am’, Kíli replied. Only to have it destroyed by those stupid bastards of men. Did they even know, how heavy stone blocks were and how long it had taken to build the goddamn thing?!

‘And you are the great demon that destroyed the kingdom of Arnor?’

‘I am’. Well, that had been fun! Kíli allowed himself a little grin.

While the kid was busy asking questions and making sure that he had actually summoned the right demon, Kíli carefully began testing the boundaries. He let the fog stretch like fingers, gently prodding the outlines of the pentagram he was currently floating in. But to his great disappointment, they didn’t give way at the slightest; the circle drawn with white charcoal was accurate and without any break. Nothing Kíli could slip through.

The natural instinct of every demon was to immediately test his environment. If the pentagram that held them in place was not fully drawn and therefore showed any weaknesses, the demon could escape through that gap and kill his master within a blink of an eye. Mostly saved them a lot of trouble. 

Apparently this wasn’t an option today, so Kíli had to wait until the kid would actually spill the reason he had summoned the demon. Kíli hoped it was a good reason, some dangerous task: stealing a high valued treasure from a kingdom, something among those lines. 

‘Are you the great demon that…’

That was when Kíli lost his patience.

‘Well, what about we stop this nonsense, agree that I am indeed Kíli the unleasher and you get on with it, kiddo? I don’t have all fucking day, you know!’

The blonde boy stopped mid-sentence and stared at him in something between disbelieve, shock and confusion.

‘Oh…okay, right…ahm…’

He seemed at a complete loss of what to do next. Kíli groaned inwardly and resisted the urge to bang his head against the stone floor. Why was it always him who got the experimenting kids that found a curious looking book, draw something on the floor and spoke some silly lines just because they were bored? It was utterly humiliating!

Well, at least Kíli had to admit that not every youngster could summon a demon. There had to be at least a bit shadow-whisperer blood in his veins. Someone without it could dance naked around the circle and nothing would happen.

Apparently the boy had refound his composure. He was now watching Kíli from top to toe – well, not literally – curiously. However, the demon decided to speed things up a bit.

‘So, how can I be at your service, master? You want me to build a city for you? Or destroy another kingdom? Maybe bring down the king so you can take his place?`

The blonde furrowed his brows. ‘What?! No! I certainly don’t want you to bring down the king, he’s my uncle. How dare you suggest something like that!’

Ah. That indeed explained the rich furniture and the boy’s clothes.

‘Apologies, master. What is my task, then?’

Kíli’s boredom grew steadily. Plus his matter started to itch uncomfortably. Floating midair was nothing you could do for hours.

‘Nothing. I was just curious.’

Wait.

What?

‘WHAT?’ That had Kíli toppling to the floor, landing in a little heap of black smoke, the smell of saltpeter filling the air. 

‘What do you MEAN you were curious?!’

If the servants hadn’t heard the strange things going on in these chambers before, they now definitely knew.

Kíli meanwhile had a hard time to grasp what was happening. He had been summoned by a kid only because said youngster was curious?

‘Well.’ The boy didn’t seem to be too impressed by Kíli’s outburst. ‘I overheard mum and uncle talking about that there might be shadow-whisperer blood in our family line and uncle got really angry, told her not to talk about it again. So I researched and found out what a shadow-whisperer could do. I stole the book from the library and wanted to look if I can do that, summon a creature from the netherworld. And it worked!’

He looked really pleased with himself, excited even.

Kíli was neither. 

‘That’s…how…you thought you’d try if you can do that, just like that?’

Holy Melcor! The boy had no idea how lucky he had been to get both the incantations and the pentagram right or else he would be dead by now. Though, on the other hand, that wouldn’t have been so bad since Kíli wished to strangle the boy right this instant for his disrespect and stupidity.

‘Yep.’

‘And..you just wanted to look at me?! I may be a demon, young man, but that doesn’t make me an animal behind bars you can stare at for your own pleasure! I mean, do you want me to make a cartwheel or summon dead persons or something?’

This was…Kíli was at a loss for words – and that certainly didn’t happen often. 

‘You can do that? Summon a dead person, I mean?’

‘What do you mean can I…? OF COURSE I CAN DO THAT, I’M A DEMON, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!’

At this point Kíli was at his feet again, literally fuming with anger, flames erupting from his skin, hissing like snakes. If the pentagram had only one tiny break, Kíli would burn down the whole house, palace, whatever they were in – the boy at first. Finally, the demon’s fury seemed to provoke a reaction from the young man. 

‘O-okay, no need to get angry. That’s just so cool…I mean’, he hastily corrected himself seeing Kíli’s narrowed eyes, ‘sorry, that’s really frightening and I do apologize for the uncomfortable situation I brought upon you, Kili the unleasher. You are free to go back now.’

And with that, he hastily recited the appropriate incantations and Kíli felt himself being pushed back again. The boy and the room dissolved into smoke and within the blink of an eye, Kíli found himself back in the Netherworld, still breathing heavily and fuming with anger.

And he had no idea what had just happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a not so pleasant turn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story continues to be inspired by the 'Bartimaeus' Saga of Jonathan Stroud; however, there’s another book added to the inspiration-pot: 'The Painted Man' by the very brilliant Peter V. Brett. If you know both books/series you will see which parts come from which books. These ideas are the ones of the authors, not my own. And since Fíli and Kíli plus all the other characters appearing in this story are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien, you could say that my only claim is the plot of this story.
> 
> Since 'The Painted Man' has not as many comical elements as 'Bartimaeus' has, the story took a darker turn than I first intended it to. But don’t worry, Kíli will stay the same, so I guess there will be funny moments between Fíli and Kíli, who are (just a reminder) not related in this fiction. The story surrounding them is however a little bit darker.
> 
> As it wasn’t quite clear before: this story takes place in Middle-earth under pretty much the same circumstances as it is in the Hobbit or Lord of the Rings. With the addition of demons and the Netherworld, of course. But there will be a further explanation later in the story – the chapter after this one, I guess. 
> 
> Enjoy

Fíli’s heart was thundering in his chest as he ran through the dark corridors as quietly as he could. Erebor was huge, a kingdom built of hundreds of corridors and chambers, a labyrinth within a mountain. Only those who had grown up there managed not to get lost. The way from his uncle’s, the King’s private chambers to his own was imprinted on the back of Fíli’s vision since his very first days in this world. Surely, his uncle rarely summoned him there officially, but the blond dwarf had always been curious and slightly mischievous – which resulted in many secretly overheard conversations his uncle had with other royals or Fíli’s mother in his chambers. 

This time wasn’t an exception; but it was also not a funny affair. For the first time since Fíli could remember, what he had heard had shocked him to his core. And that was the reason he now ran towards his own private rooms, blood roaring in his ears and his heart threatening to leap out of his chest.

They were going to ban him from the kingdom.

He had been foolish, indeed, Fíli knew that. That he had dared to read about shadow-whisperers, a topic forbidden to speak about centuries before he himself had been born; dared to learn how the secret ceremonies were done, how a demon could be summoned – it had been risky. Again born on his curiosity and natural thirst for knowledge. It too had been a hushed conversation of his mother and her brother he had eavesdropped on in front of the King’s room. He remembered clearly how his mother had spoken out loud the words the young Prince couldn’t forget for the next days: that there ran shadow-whisperer’s blood within their lines. How furious his uncle had become, screaming at her to never utter those words again. That it had to be kept a secret or else ‘would you want your body dangle from a gallon, along with mine and your son’s? Would you give this Kingdom over to Dain to give him yet another Kingdom to rule and outpower the other Dwarven Kingdoms?’.

Fíli hadn’t understood back then and he still didn’t understand everything. He knew Dain, of course. A cousin to their family who ruled over the Iron Hills, the second largest of the seven dwarven Kingdoms of Middle-earth. He also knew, after some secret research in the library, in a department forbidden to anyone, what a shadow-whisperer was: someone who could not also summon demons but control them. He read about the iron dwarven law against practicing those methods that had been installed centuries ago. The history books weren’t exact on that, but Fíli nevertheless found out that his own grandfather, King Thror had been executed because of that. Because he had gone mad with power-lust. And there were rumors that Erebor owed it’s greatness and riches only to demons, summoned by Thror. He had been overthrown by his own grandson, Thorin, ages ago. From that day on, everyone who even spoke the term ‘shadow-whisperer’ out loud was sentenced to death. 

Thorin had made sure of that. And now, no one really believed that this was even possible. 

Fíli hadn’t believed it, too. 

He knew the stories about demons, rising from the Netherlands itself every night. No one knew how it began and what exactly drove the demons to the surface as soon as the sun had set. Only that it had been this way since before the days of men, even before the days of dwarfs. Not even the elves, the oldest and wisest race walking in Middle-earth knew how it started. And therefore, no one knew how to end it. 

Fíli had been present in countless council-meetings, whenever travelers arrived in Erebor. Merchants, most of them, but also heralds. Traveling was always dangerous and the stories they told both terrified and excited Fíli in a strange way. Of demons murdering whole villages overnight because the guarding seals painted at their houses and thresholds to stop the demons from entering where smudged or flawed. Of travelers who didn’t find shelter for the night, making camp on the road with seals poorly drawn into the dirt; some of them surviving and some not. 

During those meetings, Fíli had always been happy that he himself was save within Erebor and its high walls; plenty of seal-drawers making sure that the Mountain was save at all times, controlling the seals engraved in solid stone were intact every day before nightfall. It was easy, here. Solid stone walls didn’t crumble and therefore protection runes didn’t smudge and even if they withered throughout the time, they were easy to replace. Fíli himself had never been outside Erebor at night, no citizen of Erebor had. It was not necessary.

And now he faced banishment for his own stupidity. 

Finally, the Prince reached his private rooms, slamming the door behind him. He drew the bolt although he knew it was in vain. They’d come and get him soon enough. His mind was racing and he desperately tried to stop his hands from trembling. How could he have been so stupid? After his success in actually summoning a demon (and getting rid of him without being killed or injured as well), he had become bold. Had spent hours locked in his room, studying rituals and practicing them. It was only a matter of time until the servants got suspicious what with all the noise coming from behind the locked door.

Of course they would tell his mother at some point and he had to lie to her when she questioned him. It maybe would’ve worked – if she hadn’t found the papers he was practicing protection runes on. Papers he should have burnt in the fireplace right away, but he had been running late for his daily sword drilling with Dwalin and the bald warrior would’ve reported his lateness, rousing more suspicion. After Dís had found the papers and put two and two together, she immediately sought out his brother. It was pure luck Fíli had overheard a few guards talking about the Lady storming out of her son’s room and towards her brother’s chambers. Had he simply returned to his quarters to wash up after the training, they would have surprised him with the banishment. 

Now, he could at least prepare himself. 

Tears welled up in his eyes and Fíli hastily blinked them away. There was no time for that now. Pleading for his uncle’s mercy would be in vain, he knew that. Even if Thorin would be willing to listen, his hands were still bound by the law he himself had installed decades ago. And what Fíli had heard from his mother’s and uncle’s conversation, Thorin would not let show mercy. 

Tugging a few clothes out of the big closet in his quarters, Fíli found the leather-backpack he had once bought from a merchant years ago. It had a false bottom, carefully hidden with ornaments and extra layers of leather within the bag. Perfect to hide things you didn’t want anyone to find. Fíli didn’t know how exactly it worked, just that it was some elven magic. The merchant that gave it to him called himself a wizard, Galdalf. He had been very mysterious and curious indeed and had insisted that Fíli took the backpack, even when the prince had laughed and asked what he would possibly use it for? After all, he was looking forward to a safe future here in Erebor, being crowned King under the Mountain one day and would most likely never leave the dwarven kingdom. The man called Gandalf had surveyed him for a long moment and then had shaken his head.

“Nothing is ever certain, my dear Prince. I beg you, take it. I’ll make you a low price.”

The price had indeed been low and shrugging, Fíli finally had taken the leather-bag. Now, he thanked Mahal that he had taken it. Hastily, he picked up the things he would need outside the castle, hidden under a loose floorboard: the books he nicked from the library – Balin would have his head if he found out, but well -, several long sticks of chalk to draw a pentragram if needed, the small stone tablets he had spent hours engraving protective runes into. Again he thanked Mahal that he had already securely attached them to one another with heavy iron vires, so when laid out on the ground they found a large circle of ten feet diameter. This portable protection circle was his only chance to survive a night on the road if he didn’t find shelter before nightfall. He’d used stone tablets instead of wood because they were less likely to be destroyed. Thinking again, with his heart still pounding, Fíli took out the small hammer and chisel he had used to carve the runes in plus a few extra, blank stone tablets, just in case. 

Once he carefully stashed away all those things inside the hidden pocket in the backpack, it suddenly dawned on Fíli that even if the items weren’t visible and the hidden pocket couldn’t be opened by anyone than him, the owner of the backpack – at least that was what the old man had said back then, but who knew if he had a nut loose or not –, they would definitely search his pack before throwing him out. And it would weigh definitely more than a few clothes and food would. His hands started to shake as he thought of that and swallowing, Fíli lifted the bag with the intention of unloading it again – and froze. The bag weighed not more than the moment he had taken him out of his closet. Disbelieving, Fíli scrambled to check of the books and metal tablets were still there – but they sat in their secret pocket alright. 

Relief flooded Fíli momentarily, the sharp contrast to his fear and shock making him dizzy for a moment. Breathing deeply, Fíli laid the backpack back into the cupboard. He would have to act surprised, were there to come for him immediately. With shaking fingers, he rid himself of the outfit he wore for training and started washing up at the basin in the corner of the large room. 

Not a few minutes later, there was a banging on his door. Fíli paled. They had come for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must say I'm a little nervous, since this has taken a noticable turn now :(   
> I hope you still enjoyed it?


End file.
